The Flame That Never Dies
by RainWillMakeTheFlowersGrow
Summary: les mis fanfiction. Eventual Enjolras/Éponine. No OOC, i promise. No profanity. Awesomeness. Action. A barricade. A-wait. I'm not going to give you the whole whopping plot. Read it! :D I MADE CHANGES TO THE ENDING PLEASE READ AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! THANK YOU! PLEASE READ I MADE CHANGES! LIKE, A LOT OF THEM!
1. To the Barricades!

Author's Note: Hey readers this is my first fanfic so yeah. I have ALWAYS been a supporter of Enjolras/Éponine so this will eventually turn out that way... I have read the book/watched the broadway show/watched the movie and I imagine Aaron Tveit as Enjolras (but with blue eyes!) and Samantha Barks as Éponine (I know both from the movie but I liked Samantha before she was on the big screen as Éponine...in the 25th anniversary she was AMAZING). So there. I will add more chapters...

Enjolras' pov.

"Who's there?!" the head of the French National Guard asked, as if he didn't know. All was eerily still, the calm before the storm.

I scaled the barricade quickly, my right hand holding our bright red flag. "French Revolution!" I cried, feeling no fear at all at the sight of hundreds of guns pointed in my direction. Bravery or adrenaline, I don't know.

The leader, who had, presumably, already told his men to ready their guns, shouted "FIRE!" with absolutely no hesitation. A hail of bullets flew our way. Several holes were violently ripped in the flag and splintering was clearly audible within the barricade structure, but no one was hit. The leader, through the smoke following the shots, told his men to advance. They came rushing at us.

"Steady," I told my friends, "wait until they come a little closer…shoot!" Reports rang all around me, and several National Guards fell. Answering shots followed, and I propped the flag up, pulled out my pistol, and backed down several steps. As the first National Guards began to scale the barricade (which was not more than seven feet high), Combeferre on my right came up to me.

"Courfyerfac and I were just checking our supplies. We have plenty of ammunition, but the rain last night wet more than half the powder. I would say we have enough for thirty shots for each man."

I shot a soldier off the barricade and looked at Combeferre. "We'll make do."

In the confusion, I lost sight of him and continued to fight. I slew several of them before they began to pour into the barricade three at a time. Around me, my friends fought valiantly, but it was a losing battle. We needed help, but it did not arrive.

About five minutes later, the leader of the National Guard commanded temporary retreat for his men. He yelled up at us, "Look, you fools! The people of Paris sleep in their beds! They will not come! Why do you throw your lives away? Give up; you have no chance at all!"

I looked around at my friends, _mon amis de l'ABC_. No one looked remotely interested at giving up. I called in return, "So? Others will come once we have fallen. Let us make our enemy bleed while we can! You will pay through the nose; you will pay for every man! And the people shall continue to fight until the earth is free!"

My words inspired cheering from the barricade. They started chanting, "make them pay," and I felt my blood stirring with pride for my friends and my country.

Suddenly, Pontmercy cried out. I looked at him; he had not been shot. He was kneeling by a gamine, some girl off the street. She held out something to him. I started to walk over as my friends continued to chant. The girl was shaking, and I saw something dark and wet staining her tattered dress. Blood. She whispered something to Pontmercy and he nodded and kissed her forehead. He looked up at me.

"Her name was Éponine," he said, "and though her life was dark, she was unafraid. She brought me a letter to from my beloved, and was shot. I think…I think she saved me."

I nodded. She was the first to fall, but undoubtedly would not be the last, on this barricade. I stooped and picked the dead girl up, to bring her inside the café. As I did so, I felt her chest weakly rising and falling, and blood was still gently pumping out. Nearly imperceptible, but there. "Joly!" I cried, for others had gathered around while this was going on, "She's not dead! Make use for once of your medical expertice and do whaat you can." Then I left, knowing that if the strange girl could be saved, she would be.


	2. Gavroche, no!

Hi again! Sorry this chapter is sooo short. Next one will be longer, I promise.

I again scaled the barricade and looked at the scene. The ground was littered with dead bodies, all soldiers. Most of them had ammunition packs, but there was no way to get to them. I muttered under my breath, _If only we could get to them, we would have at least ten shots more for every man!_ As if in response to my mutter, I saw a shadow flit effortlessly over the barricade towards the exit. I realized what was happening and hissed, "Gavroche, no!" but it was too late. He was already on the other side. I watched with growing horror as the little fiery gamin taunted the soldiers and grabbed ammunition packs.

Several shots were fired, but none of them hit home. Gavroche laughed and continued to scamper around. He was almost back to the barricade, picking his way across, when suddenly a shot rang out and he stopped singing. I looked on helplessly as he was hit in the shoulder. Tossing his basket of much-needed ammunition over, he fell back, crying out. Another shot was fired. Gavroche crumpled to the ground. He raised his tiny fist in the air. Then, he moved no more.

Courfeyrac yelled and ran over to him, crying. He would have, I believed, charged the National Guard immediately, unarmed, had not Combeferre and Pontmercy held him back. I looked at them and turned away, letting no emotion cross my face.


	3. Chapter 3!

Hey! I told you this one would be longer! :D

The National Guards' leader, having been reinforced, charged the barricade. They came pouring in, and we fought bravely. I ducked a bayonet, grabbing a sword and stabbing. All around me, my friends were quite clearly at their last stand. I saw Combeferre be stabbed in the back and Feuilly shot. Miraculously, I was not touched. I fought hard and killed a lot of them, but more just kept coming. Eventually, I was forced to run into the café and up the stairs. They followed me, and shot through the floor. The shots must have finally woken Grantraire up. He lurched out from under a table and looked around.

"VivelaFrance!"he drunkenly slurred. A young officer quickly shot him.

I backed up against the wall and threw my broken bayonet piece to the floor. "Shoot me," I said calmly.

The same officer looked about ready to when he was stopped. "Wait," another officer said, and then to me, "were you the leader?"

I looked him in the eyes and said, "yes."

He smiled coldly and said to his men, "don't shoot him. They want an example for the crowd, to tell the _precious_ people what happens to foolish young revolutionaries, and he is the only one alive. Bind him and bring him to Monsieur the general.

I looked in shock at the soldiers. I attempted to struggle, but it was no fight at all. I was roughly taken and shoved against the wall face first. My hand were forced behind my back and tied. I was then made to walk as such through the streets of Paris. I saw street urchins and others on the streets who must have heard the gunshots in the brief battle and not come. _The people_, I thought bitterly. The ones I will die to save couldn't care less. I marched straight ahead with my head held high, determined not to show defeat, even now. No one we passed met my eye, but I stared at him or her as if saying, "I go to die for you. I would do it again." The soldiers shoved me painfully into their headquarters, where a stern-looking man with piercing eyes and black hair looked at me with disgust.

"Who is this?" he asked the young officer.

"This is the rebels' Fearless Leader, monsieur," the man replied with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"I see. And you brought him back alive because…?"

"Monsieur asked us to bring back someone to be publicly executed as an example. He was the last man left on the last barricade standing. He is also the leader.

"I see. And is the inspector back yet?" he asked, directing his questions still at the young officer, who appeared to be in charge.

I thought of Inspector Javert, whom that volunteer Fauchelevent had dealt with. I had heard the shot. "He's dead," I said, spitting out the words to the general, glad to bring him bad news, "he was captured and shot as a spy. He'll never be back again."

The general slapped me in my face, hard. "Who asked you, revolutionist?" he asked. "Next time we hear any contributions you want to make, it will be on the scaffold before your rebels' honored favorite, _La Guillotine._"

I did not flinch. With a courage that seemed beyond me, I said evenly, "So? I have every intention of dying for my cause. When France is free, you will hear the people sing, and you will not like the song. The people will rule! We will—

This time on my left cheek. The man leaned in close to my face, his dark brown eyes mirroring my blue. "Don't speak again, revolutionist," he said in a deep voice, almost a growl, "You're not being executed for several days, but we can and will make you suffer and wish you had died at your precious barricade."

To the young officer, he said, "take him to La Force. Guard him well, and allow nothing to pass between him and the outside world."

Then he spat on my face.


	4. Éponine at last!

YAY! We get to Éponine's point of view at last. I hope this is long enough! It is harder to write hers, I think...with Enjolras if theres an awkward part I just made him say heroic stuff about the revolution.

Éponine's pov.

I had Cosette's letter to Marius. If I did this for him, then maybe, maybe he would notice me. I would do anything for Marius' happiness. Wrapping tight cloth around my torso, I tucked my straggly, dirty hair under a cap. On went an oversized man's coat, wrapping it close in the dark and rainy evening. I looked just like any other gamin, thin and starved. The barricade where Marius was fighting was several streets down, and I hurried through the rain, keeping to the shadows. I heard gunshots and was worried Marius would die without me. Oh, I loved him! He was so handsome when he was smiling, and when he was worried I just wanted to fling my arms around him and make him happy. I would do anything for the happiness of Marius, even break my heart. Therefore, I did.

The leader of the National Guard was shouting to the men in the barricade when I slipped into it, unseen. I spied Marius and walked up to him.

The leader of the revolution, Edouard or something, shouted, "French Revolution!"

Soldiers charged the barricade. I tried to keep Marius in view, though there was a lot of smoke and it was hard to see. I did not yell his name, but followed him like a second shadow.

Suddenly, I saw it. Marius was fighting a national guard with a broken sword, and was completely immersed. Another guard was in front of him and slightly to his right, aiming his carbine at him. The guard's hand tightened and I had no other choice. I thrust my hand onto the muzzle of the gun, at the same time throwing myself in front of Marius.

The bullet ripped through my hand and into my torso. I fell back, noiselessly. My cap fell off. As the world swam red, I thought, _at least I died for Marius. I could not live without him. _I smiled at the thought of Marius, happy, living beyond the barricade….

The fighting stopped. I was gasping for breath, but no one noticed me, as I was hidden in the shadow under the eaves by the café. The National guards' leader was telling them to give up. _Just give up, _I thought. _The pain will stop._

Then I remembered Cosette's letter. I could not die without Marius seeing it. Marius. He was indescribably wonderful, even when he didn't notice me at all. I whispered hoarsely, "Marius…Marius…"

He turned, confused. Then he saw me and cried out. The revolutionary leader started walking over, but I only saw Marius. He leaned over me, tears forming in his eyes. He was crying for me? Oh! I loved him.

"Marius….here," I whispered, handing him shakily the bloodstained letter, "from Cosette. I didn't give it to you…I'm sorry.

"Marius…when I die…kiss me. I will feel it…somehow."

Then the world went black.


	5. Enjolras is Taken to Jail Shucks

Ok so i decided that i will have a different pov every chapter. Back to the fearless leader.

Enjolras' pov

The young guard roughly grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down on the floor. I was re-bound hand and foot, though only loosely around my ankles so I could still walk, slowly and painfully. He kicked me in the ribs, hard.

"Get up, scum," he snarled.

I slowly, with difficulty got to my feet, only to trip when I tried to take a step. The officer laughed harshly. He gestured to his men, and they grabbed my arms and dragged me to my feet. They forced me to walk again through Paris, this time using their guns to shove me along.

We arrived at La Force.

The sentry came up to us and inquired as to who I was, or so I assumed. My ears were ringing from the gunshots, and I did not pay close attention.

The young officer pointed to me and said something like, "we're taking the revolutionist scum to be held until execution, on the 28th of June."

The young officer finished talking and shouted at me to "move it, revolutionist!"

I slowly walked up to the menacing prison. The young officer grabbed my arm himself and led me down, down, two flights of stairs and a hallway. The place smelled, of disease, despair, destruction, and death.

I was shoved into a tiny cell, barely tall enough for me to stand up in or lie down in. Not that I would want to touch the damp, mildewed floor that reeked of rot and waste. The heavy iron door was clanged shut, leaving me in next to total darkness. The only light came from a tiny hole in the wall near the door.

"Don't leave this place for anything!" the young officer snapped to the rest of the men, "that is an important prisoner and I am not letting him get away."

I sat in the cell for what I imagined were hours but I had no real way of counting time so I could not be sure. A piece of hard, gritty black bread was flung in, along with some thin _stuff_. I had no idea what it was. I began to grow sleepy, though the idea of lying down still repulsed me.

I had to, eventually, though. I chose what looked like the least grimy, defaced patch of floor, and stretched out on it.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I had thought that the barricade would be taken, but had intended to die within it. Now I was lost, with all my friends dead. Dead! I would never hear Courfeyrac make one of his philosophical statements again, never hear Bossuet complain about his evil genius. I would give an eye to hear Pontmercy bleating about his angel, or to see Grantraire passed out on the floor. I would never again be annoyed at Joly's fear of germs. Joly…where was he? I had sent him off to care for that girl…he was probably dead. The girl, too. Never again would I stay up all night making rousing speeches for les Amis de l'ABC. I closed my eyes and held my head, feeling as if I would explode. Darn them! I hated the National Guard for destroying the barricade, and the king of France for being what he was. I hated them for making my friends die, and for doing what they did to the people. No matter what they did to me, I decided, I would always stand for the people. They kill me, but they do not kill the flame. The flame will never die, not as long as there are those on Earth that are oppressed.


	6. In which Éponine has a breakdown

Hello again! I am really going with this story. I wrote a lot today and will post more chapters...hopefully, if I'm not too busy watching the Superbowl commercials. :D

Éponine's pov.

I woke up. A man was carrying me gently. My left hand and side hurt terribly.

"Ma...rius?" I asked, hoping beyond hope.

The man almost dropped me. "Shh," he hissed, "I'm not Pontmercy. I'm Joly."

Oh. "Whe…where are we going?"

"I am a medical student, and I know more or less how to help your wounds. Now, keep quiet, we need to get to a safe place soon. The streets are full of strangers, and we don't want to run into anyone… an enemy."

I understood. I had not died for my sweet Marius. That was all I knew. No Marius, no me. I had meant to die for him, for I could not live knowing he was gone. I thought…

"Did they all…die?" I whispered in a raspy voice.

Joly's grip tightened almost inperceptably. His voice was shaky as he answered, "yes."

Tears streamed down my face as I thought of a world without Marius. He had never noticed me, true, but he was always there, so handsome and indestructible. I cried and cried, not caring what happened to me now.

We arrived some minutes later at a small apartment. Joly drew from within a pocket a key, with some difficulty, as he was still carrying me, and unlocked the door. Inside was a table, a bookshelf, a bed, some chairs, and other sparse comforts. To me it seemed unreal. For the last ten years or so, I had never had anything but the bare minimum, and less.

He laid me on the table, took off my coat, and went to wash his hands. My left hand and side hurt so badly I wanted to scream, but I didn't have enough energy. Joly came back and looked worriedly at the wound, and did the last thing I wanted him to do. He stuck his finger into it.

"AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEE EEEEEEEEE!"

I screamed so loudly, all of Paris must have heard it. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, and I could taste blood in my mouth. Joly looked at me with pity, but did not remove his finger. He probed in there

and lit a candle, holding it so close I could feel it's minimal heat. He frowned and removed his finger at last. The pain did not go away, but it grew significantly less. I tried unsuccessfully to keep tears from my eyes.

He noticed my expression and said, "Well, there's good news and bad news. The bullet went through your hand, into your side, but luckily ricocheted off your third rib. But you will never use your hand again."

I think he was going to say more, when there was a knock at the door. Joly did not answer immediately, and the door was forced open. On the threshold was a menacing figure. He was young, and tall for his age. He wore the uniform of the National Guard. The man looked at a sheet of paper and at Joly.

"F. Joly?" he asked. Without waiting for recognition, he pulled a pistol from his belt and leveled it at me.

"Were you at the barricade by the Café Musain? Answer me now or the gamine dies."

Joly looked at me. I had only known him for minutes. He had no reason to sacrifice himself for me. _"Just let me die!" _I wanted to say. At least then, I would be with Marius.

Slowly, he nodded.

The guard pulled the gun up to where Joly was standing. Without hesitation or mercy, he shot him twice in the chest. I gasped as Joly fell down, dead.

The guard looked at me. He gestured to several men who must have been standing outside to come in.

"Take her to La Force."


	7. The Writing on the Wall

Well, back to the fearless leader. I decided that Enjolras' name should begin with an m. You find out what it is if you...read my awful OOC parody where Enjolras and Cosette call each other lots of stupid names! Anyway...yah.

Enjolras' pov!

I awakened sometime in the night to the sound of someone being put in the cell next to mine. The door opened and I heard a girl's voice yelp.

The young officer said to his comrade, "Joly is taken care of. We found this street girl in his house. She has a bullet wound on her hand and torso. The only other survivor we have yet to account for is M. Pontmercy."

Pontmercy. I wondered where he was. Off to see his angel, no doubt. At least one of us would survive.

And the girl- I had sent Joly off with her, and look where it had gotten him- killed. She was obviously in pain, I could hear her stifled moans through the wall. I was not totally without emotion, like some of les amis de l'ABC thought-_had _thought. I walked over to the wall and said, "Well it looks like your Marius will live to see the dawn, at least."

"Marius…"she gasped.

"What's your name?" I couldn't just keep calling her "the girl" in my head.

"Ep…Éponine," she said, "yours?"

"Enjolras."

I heard a sharp intake of breath, though maybe she was just gasping for breath. "You…You were at the barricade, too!"

I clenched my jaw. "Yes."

Éponine sounded confused. "But…they killed Joly. Why didn't they kill you? You were the leader."

I smiled bitterly, thinking of what was to pass in sixteen…fifteen days' time. "They want me as an…example," I said heavily, "to show the people what happens to foolish young revolutionaries."

She was silent for a time. Then she said, "Oh."

I was about to reply when the door opened and the young officer came in. "Don't talk, scum," he said, "or you'll regret it." Then, turning to the wall that separated me from Éponine, he yelled, "and that goes for you too, you dirty gamine!" He slapped me again and stalked out. The door slammed behind him.

My cheek burned from his hand, but I didn't make any noise. I silently leaned back against the wall I put my hands behind my head. The wall was rough, but here it seemed like letters were engraved in the stone. I truned around, but the light was barely enough to see my hand as a shadow against the wall, much less make out letters. I resolved to wait until they brought me more food to look.

I woke up to the tolling of the bells at Notre Dame. So the emergency bell had stopped at last. At least now I could tell time. At five o'clock another stale black loaf was thrust in and I looked at the words on the wall. They said something like this.

_Notre barricade est tombé 5 février 1814. Pas encore assez grand pour l'appeler une révolution. Si vous lisez ceci, je suis mort. VIVE LA FRANCE !_

_Our barricade fell February fifth, 1814. Not even big enough to call it a revolution. If you are reading this, I am dead. VIVE LA FRANCE!_

I thought of my own position. It was eerily similar to the unknown, dead person who had occupied this cell 18 years ago. I looked at the words, barely visible now the door was shut. They inspired me, and I no longer felt as if I was a shell. Others died before me for the cause, and others would die after me. France belongs to the people, and one day they will get her.

Slowly, I felt my hand along the floor, disgusting as it was. I reached along until I found what I was looking for. A shard of the rock wall. I picked it up and started to etch under the previous writing.

_Nous sommes tombés sur le 28 juin 1832. Bien que la révolution peut être réprimée, la flamme n'aller pas mourir, aussi longtemps que la France n'est pas gratuit. Je meurs pour notre cause, que 33 autres fait. Vive la France et Patria ! -M. Enjolras_

_We fell on the 28__th__ of June, 1832. Though the revolution may be quelled, the flame will never die, as long as France is not free. I die for our cause, as 33 others did. Vive la France et Patria! -M. Enjolras _

I hoped that someone, after me, would live to read the writing.


	8. Éponine Dreams a Dream

Hello! I have decided that Éponine is even awesomer than I originally thought. Thank you for reading! I am not going to ask you to review since i think thats kind of stupid...i mean, if you like it or find a mistake, sure, but im not going to force you to. Read on, Everyone! By the way, _alouette_ means "lark" in French. That's what Éponine would mockingly call little Cosette in the book.

Éponine's pov.

The officer motioned to me. Two guards carried me, regardless of my injuries. AH! It hurt. I started crying again, for Marius and Joly and me and all the others at the barricade. The officer looked at me without remorse.

"Your tears will do you no good," he said without emotion, "you were at the barricade, there's no other reason for your gunshot wound. I would kill you but you're a girl."

I laughed through my tears. "Just kill me," I whispered, "then I'll be with Marius. You killed him, too."

The officer looked at me again. "Every man in that barricade deserved to die. I don't kill girls."

Nonetheless, his men carried me down two flights of stairs, jolting with every step. I hoped I would pass out again from the pain, but I knew from experience that it took more than that. Finally, they led me to a tiny cell in a dank hallway with less than mediocre light. He opened the door and my bearers threw me in. I could not stop from yelping in pain, as I landed on both my left hand and side. The door slammed shut.

The same officer who had killed Joly said to one of his men, "Joly is taken care of. We found this street girl in his house. She has a bullet wound on her hand and torso. The only other survivor we have yet to account for is M. Pontmercy."

_M. Pontmercy._ Marius. As if echoing my thoughts, a voice came floating through the wall on my left.

"Well, it looks like your Marius will live to see the dawn, at least."

I could have leaped for joy if I hadn't been in so much pain. _Marius was alive_.

"Mar…ius," I said, my voice choked with emotion.

"What's your name?" the voice said. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I didn't know why. I saw nothing wrong with telling him, but I did not want him to know my last name. I was not proud of it.

"Éponine," I said. Then, still curious about if I had heard him before, I said, "and you?"

A slight pause, and then, "Enjolras."

My mind reeled. I gasped. _Enjolras._ The leader. The man who brought it together.

"You… you were at the barricade, too!"

"Yes."

Suddenly, I was confused. "But… they killed Joly. Why didn't they kill you? You were the leader."

"They want me as an example," he said, "to show what happens to foolish young revolutionists."

They were going to kill him. A public execution to show the people how they dealt with his type. I had seen public executions before. Not on purpose. It was only a bit of sidewalk I was curled up for the night, and the next morning I was awakened to people shouting for blood.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't imagine a worse death. Thinking I couldn't just leave it hanging there, I said, "oh," very quietly.

Suddenly, that evil officer must have walked in to Enjolras' cell, for I heard the door slam. Next thing I hear is, "Don't talk, scum, or you'll regret it." He shouted through the wall, "and that goes for you too, gamine!" I did not object to being called such. My own parents had said far worse, but calling Enjolras scum was beyond nasty. _You've already killed his future and he died for what he lived for!_ I wanted to shout. _At least treat him with respect!_

But I am a coward. Growing up on the streets makes you think of yourself before others, and I said nothing.

Quietly, I sobbed until I fell asleep on the cold stone floor.

I don't usually have dreams, but that night I had a nightmare. I was standing by the Seine when all of a sudden I was inside a barricade. I was shouting for the freedom of the people-my people-when I noticed Azelma next to me. She looked up and said, "French Revolution!" Then she was shot. I screamed and looked at her corpse. Then, it transformed into a living, breathing Cosette. She looked at me with such an awful expression. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. All I could say was, "Alouette, alouette, " and watch in horror as the child I grew up tormenting laughingly took Marius and kissed him. Then, they spat at me and walked off. The world went black. I was half crying, half screaming, when I woke up in a cold sweat.

Enjolras must have heard me. Under my sobbing, I heard him say, "sh, Éponine. It will be ok. Your sister is not dead. Calm down!"

I gulped and tried to stop, but it was just so realistic! I couldn't get the image of 'Zelma dying out of my head, nor of Marius and Cosette going off together. As I slowly regained control of myself, Notre Dame's bells chimed eight o'clock. I heard clanking as the door was unlocked, and a hard black loaf of bread was thrust in, along with some thin porridge. It wasn't that different from what I was used to, and I devoured it hungrily. I had not eaten anything since the barricade.


	9. The Fearless Leader Gets Beat Up

Bonjour! Sorry, this chapter is, umm, reeeaaally short. But i wanted to get back to Éponine. Plus, I wanted to leave you guys with a cliffhanger. HA!

Enjolras' pov.

A little while after I finished carving into the wall, I heard Éponine's scream. Then, she started muttering, "Alouette, alouette, alouette." I started to get concerned, but not really worried. Despite being imprisoned, I was on top of the world because of my carving. Someone out there would read it, I was sure. Éponine continued to scream about her sister. I tapped on the wall.

"Éponine…Éponine…

"Sh, Éponine, it will be ok. Your sister is not dead."

Her sobs became less frantic and she was sobbing more quietly now.

"Calm down," I said. I was afraid to say more for fear of being heard by the National Guards.

Gradually, her sobbing abated and eventually they stopped altogether.

Notre Dame's bells tolled. _Eight o'clock, _I thought. Some more of that grainy, stale black bread was thrust in, along with more thin soupy porridge. I ate it, though not quickly at all. It tasted disgusting.

Nine o'clock. I had done nothing for an hour. In other circumstances, that would have been very unlikely. Not now.

Ten o'clock. Still, I had done absolutely nothing other than pace. I was still pacing when the door was thrust open. Wary, I peered through.

Outside, the young officer stood with several of his men. He gestured to me, looking at them. They entered my tiny cell. I stood in the corner, if such a small place could have corners. One of them grabbed at me, and I sprang away, but in doing so, I had forced myself against the wall. He grabbed again, this time catching my arm. He pulled me forward and twisted it, forcing me to turn so my back was to him. Then he grabbed my other arm.

He held both of them behind my back and forced me to bend over. My hair was in my eyes; I couldn't really see what was in front of me.

Suddenly one of them punched my jaw. My head jerked to one side and I could feel a bruise. Then a rain of blows, on my head, my shoulders, anywhere. They began to blend together, and my vision tunneled. I crumpled to the ground, unable to support myself, and blacked out altogether.


	10. Éponine feels sorry for herself

What?! It's a _little_ longer than the last one. And at least the last one had a rather one-sided fight scene! Anyway i have been a typing MACHINE so i hope you like it. _Voila, _Mademoiselle Thenardier.

Éponine's pov

I sat on the floor and thought. Nothing was clear. Why I was in jail, I thought was because I had been found with Joly, but I had no idea how or when I would get out. I had been sitting there for a little over an hour when I noticed that I felt something in my pocket. I pulled it out. A sou. However, I thought with a growing smile, not just _any_ sou. I _was_ a Thenardier, after all. My father had made us all carry these sous, slightly bigger than normal ones, with us wherever we went. He had learnt it from a man called Fauchelevent, Cosette's guardian, when he and his cronies had captured him. That was, ironically, the first occasion I had been put in jail.

I thought about how this would help me. I decided to tell Enjolras about it. He would know, surely. As leader of a revolution, albeit a failed one, he had to be clever.

The bell tolled for ten o'clock. I was going to tell him when it reached eleven, I decided. That would give me enough time to think of something to do with it.

Suddenly, I heard the door to his cell open and the sounds of a fight. I heard Enjolras grunt as he was, I assumed, punched repeatedly. Finally, the same officer that had killed Joly said, "He's out. Take him to the bottommost cells and do not give him food. We _will_ break him."

I heard a body, Enjolras' I assumed, being dragged out. The door slammed shut. I sat in the corner, horrified. I remembered the officer's words. _We will break him_. That didn't sound pleasant. Poor Enjolras. I thought about my sou. If I were to break out, could I and should I try and save him? I didn't even know if I had the strength, even if I could.

I sat in the corner and thought about the only person who could make me happy. Marius. He was so perfect. Then I thought about the love of his life, Cosette. Bitter irony! The Lark, _Alouette_, whom I had mocked and made fun of for years. Then, some bourgeois came and took her away, and got to have everything she wanted. Meanwhile, our inn fell into disrepair and repute, and I was forced to beg on the streets for food that sometimes never came. Papa was cruel to us, and I envied Gavroche, who had run away. I got to wear rags and be turned off by my love, while she got to wear fine clothes and have someone who loves her.

I really, truly loved Marius. He was so special. He was alive, too. The only one who got out alive, pardoning Enjolras (who wasn't going to survive anyway). That decided it. I had to escape, for Marius...

P. S. Marius is kind of an idiot. Just saying.


	11. Water Can Both Make You And Break You

Hello again, Readers! I am hoping you like this a lot! Thank you sooo much for your reviews and for reading this, and umm, awesome things in general... like mangoes... and the French Revolution...I have a funny joke for you! If you have read the book/seen the movie (the musical doesnt have it, D:), u might get it...

Fearless Leader: Knock Knock!

N. G.: Who's there?

Fearless Leader: FRENCH REVOLUTION!

N. G. :FIRE!

i know that that is in my other fanfic but it is my FAVORITE line aside from the weird chapter title... so yah. I really enjoy calling Enjolras the Fearless Leader. Just saying. SO. YEAH. READ ON-

Enjolras' (aka the _Fearless Leader's_) pov

I awoke in a dark room. I couldn't see anything. I ached all over. My hands were tied behind my back and I couldn't move. I was tied to a table or something. I passed back out.

XXX

Nothing had changed. Even the small comfort of Éponine had left. I was still tied to the table and the room was still black. I could no longer hear the tolling of the bells at Notre Dame. I would not give up.

I started screaming. I figured that if there was anyone there to hear, they would at least come in to tell me to be quiet.

"VIVE LA FRANCE! VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE! VIVE LE REVOLUTION! NO ONE CAN KILL THE FLAME! FRANCE WILL BE FREE! VIVE LE REVOLUTION! WE WILL KILL THE KING AGAIN! NO ONE CAN STOP THE PEOPLE! THE PEOPLE WILL RULE! VIVE LA FRANCE! VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE! THE PEOPLE OF FRANCE WILL PREVAIL! HOW LONG MUST WE SUFFER UNDER OPPRESSION?! I TELL YOU, THOUGH WE DIE NOW, IT IS PEOPLE LIKE US WHO INSPIRE A REVOLUTION! WHEN I AM DEAD, THE OUTSIDE WORLD WILL STILL BE THERE, AND ONE DAY, OPPRESSION WILL END! THE PEOPLE WILL WIN! **_VIVE LA FRANCE!_**

I stopped yelling to catch my breath. No one had come, and my screaming just echoed emptily around the room. I yelled some more about what I passionately believed in, but no one heard, or at least no one told me to stop. I had no food or water, and my throat was drying out. I decided to stop screaming. My will was not broken, but I nevertheless had a gnawing hunger after several hours. As time passed, I realized that food would never come. I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was hungry. I yelled myself hoarse again and sat in to wait. They would not break me. I was determined not to give in. No matter what, I had to stay strong.

XXX

I could not go on without water. My tongue was swelled in my mouth, and I had horrible headaches. My stomach felt like a lead weight was squeezing it. I had no more energy to yell. I wanted to give up. I really did. But I would not. Never. They couldn't break me. Ever.

I would die if they didn't give me water. No question. I smiled at the thought. If I died from lack of water, then they couldn't publicly execute me. Their plan would fail. I would die, alone in the dark. Not pleasant, but worth it to shame the National Guard.

The door opened. Light streamed in and I was blinded. The young officer was silhouetted against the door frame when I regained eyesight. He had a pitcher of water. He walked over and poured a thin trickle down my throat. I couldn't help moaning. It was so good. Water. The officer looked at me and smiled nastily. He was good at that.

"Can't have you dying of thirst, can we? No, we've got to have you alive for the execution. But, did you know that a man can go for almost two weeks without food? And you've only been here three days. Nine more to go until you meet _La Guillotine_, but that shouldn't be a problem. I will be back. Or maybe I won't. Have fun dying."


	12. Éponine Escapes!

Sorry i haven't posted in a day or two...writing has been a little slow. I am working on it...yah. Here. Éponine. Voilà.

Éponine's pov

I looked at the door. It was very solid. I pressed the big sou, watching as the little knife/file came out. It was razor sharp. I crawled over to the door and looked at the lock. It was made of lead, I thought. Good. Lead is soft. I waited.

The door opened at eight o'clock that night. I watched the lock. It turned to my right. I smiled. One tumbler. I could have picked it in my sleep. When the bell struck twelve, midnight, I decided to go. I used the skinny knife to pick the lock and slipped out.

Keeping to the shadows, I tried to remember how I had been brought in. I turned to the left and came upon a stairway. I remembered going down two stairways. I crept up. As I neared the top, I froze. I thought I heard something…no. Definitely not anything. Shaking my head, I took a deep breath and kept going.

There was the second staircase. This was easy. Much easier than I had originally thought. I started up the stairs.

There. The end of the stairs. There were cells on either side of me. A few down, there was a window. Moonlight shone faintly through. I could reach the window. Pulling out my sou, I began to file at the bars.

At about one in the morning, I heard a guard outside the window. Outside, the ground level was the height of the window, and I saw his shadow. Heart beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it, I crouched down to the ground.

_Please, go away; go away_…I thought fervently. At last, he did. I continued to file at the bars.

Two in the morning.

Three in the morning.

Four in the morning. I was almost done. There. I hoisted myself up, or tried to. I had completely forgotten about my hand. I looked down at it, worriedly. How would I get out now? Time was running out. Ripping some of my dress off and wrapping it around my left hand, I gritted my teeth and reached up with my right hand. I grabbed a bar. "Walking" up the wall, I thrust my foot through the window. Now, for the pain. I had to use my left hand. I reached up and grabbed the bar.

AAAHH! I made no sound aloud, though inside I was screaming in agony. Somehow, I managed to get through the window without dying of pain. I scurried away, the guard not even noticing me. I kept to the shadows, edging around the building. As I did so, I ran around the corner.

Free at last! I was charged with adrenaline from fear. Where would Marius be? I thought about it. He would not be in his flat. I knew he had a grandfather somewhere, but I didn't know where, and I heard that they were estranged. I was tired. Curling up in a corner of the Paris street, I fell asleep.


	13. 100 Words Of a :( Enjolras

Bonjour Readers! Sorry, i have been away. I have had the dreaded things...TESTS! You know what that means...

Valjean: Yes, it means im freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

What?! Where did you come from? ANYway, no. it means...STUDYING! So sorry. I shall continue to type. Here is our Fearless Leader, who is not in any way, shape, or form in a good way. SO YEAH. I AM THE WRITERR AND THE WRITERR IS NOT MOCKED. Just kidding. I will uphold and not ask you to review but...Thank you Eponine Daee for being my tenth reveiwer! Double digits! Yay!

I have also realized that i have neglected to put in a disclaimer thus...

* * *

**DISCLAIMER:**

If i owned Les Mis, then Enjolras and Eponine would be together. Sadly, i do not. That goes to M. Hugo. Don't sue me, i am just trying to write a fanfic about how les mis should have turned out!

I realize that this is super long. Over and out. Au revoir. A teut a l'heur. Adios. GOODBYE.

Enjolras' pov

The dark. My stomach no longer had sharp cramping aches, but now it was a dull hurt. I could not see anything. I could not feel anything. My arms and legs had gone numb from being in the same position for so long. I no longer cared. Maybe they had broken me. I didn't care. No one mattered. Nothing. No one noticed me. I noticed no one. This was all I knew. Maybe it was all I had ever known. Nothing was known. All was unknown. There was no all. It was just me. Alone. In the dark.

* * *

Hello, Readers. This is Me! I am Me. I am a character from Les Mis! If you can guess who i am kudos to you. Here's a clue!

I have been mentioned in this fanfic.

The musical refuses to acknowledge me.

I am very cool, though sadly not as cool as to be put in the musical.

I am sixteen at the time that this fanfic takes place.


	14. In Which Irony Does Not Escape Éponine

Éponine's pov

When I woke up the next morning, I knew what I had to do. I had to find Marius. Even if I had to walk to London, I would find him. I didn't know where to look, though. I decided with his estranged grandfather. I knew Marius' last name was Pontmercy. I began to ask around, though not to just anyone because I knew that the police wanted to find him.

Where would a rich bourgeois do things? Aside from his house, nowhere I knew. Rich men had seldom come into our inn, when we had one. The only rich person I knew who was even remotely nice to me was Monsieur Fauchelevent. I decided to go there. The only problem was…Cosette. I had no idea how she would perceive me. Would she pity me, or remember the awful things I had done to her as a child and send me away with nothing? That was the risk. My pride, or possibly Marius.

I decided on possibly Marius. Life without him would be nothing; I would have no one to live for.

I hurried down the street to the Rue de Plument. As I neared the house, I found myself walking slower and slower. I looked down at the street. It was shining and wet, as it had been on the night of the barricade. That fateful night.

It seemed like hours but was probably only minutes later when I got there. I looked at myself in the reflection of a puddle. The more wretched I looked, I decided, the better. I did not look good. My clothes were in disarray, tattered and bloody where the bullet had hit. My face was dirty and tearstained, and my hair was matted and full of…stuff. Dirt and blood, most likely. I hardly recognized myself. Sighing, I walked up to the door and knocked.

A maid opened the door and wrinkled her nose when she saw me.

"I would like to see Mademoiselle Cosette, please," I said. My voice was hoarse and rough. I sounded ten years older than eighteen.

The maid stiffened. "Sh-she is n-n-not here," the maid said with a stutter.

I looked imploringly at the maid. "Please," I said, "it is very important! It is about Monsieur Marius. Please, tell her when she gets back that…"

"Yes?" asked the maid impatiently.

"Tell her…tell her that Éponine needs to speak to her." I barely whispered the last part, and my eyes stung with tears of humiliation.

The maid looked at me significantly, and then shut the door.

I sighed and walked away. I had no money to buy food, but I had endured much longer than one day without. I confined myself to roaming Paris until the evening began to set in. Then, I returned to the house of Fauchelevent.

I knocked on the door again. As soon as the maid opened it, she looked at me and closed the door. I stood, stunned. Cosette must have told her to as soon as she saw me. I was a fool to think even for a minute that cosette could have forgiven me. I was just about to walk away when the door opened again. Cosette stood there.

She looked at me with surprise, distaste, and pity. I looked right back at her.

"Do you remember me, _Alouette_?" I asked jealously.

She looked agape at my bloody, torn clothing and silently nodded. "How-How did you get all bloody?" she asked.

"I threw myself in front of a gun for your Marius," I said bitterly, "saved his life, and was thrown in jail for my trouble. Surprised to see me in tatters? While you've been pampered and loved, I have slept on the streets. I loved Marius first, and you had to go and be noticed by him. I need to see him. Please."

Cosette still looked shocked, like she had never seen a person like me before.

"I…I guess," she said.


	15. Enjolras' No View (100 words)

Enjolras' pov…or rather, no view

Dark. The guard brought more water some time ago. He said six days left. I didn't care. I didn't speak. I just exist. I don't even know if I exist sometimes. It is dark. I am alone. No one comes. Am I real? Sometimes I don't think so. He came in again a little bit ago. He said five days left. What are days? There are no days for me. Only night. I am alone in the night in the dark in the quiet in the void and no one is here. I am here…


	16. Marius Makes Éponine Very Unhappy

Wow! Three people guessed who Me was! Me was, in fact, Azelma. Kudos to maddieisafansie for getting it first, and also to WanderingChild500 and Tessa (who is a guest)! You guys are true Mizzies! I really like doing this so i will do it again (see bottom of chapter)! Anyway, long live the people and here is Éponine!

Éponine's pov

I was going to see Marius. Cosette brought me to the house of Monsieur Gillenormand. Marius was in his bed. He lit up when Cosette entered. His smile, radiant as the sun, made his bandaged head look even more beautiful. I edged in. He looked at me.

"Éponine!" he said, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," I said.

Marius looked at me. Then, he turned paler than he already was. "Did…Did anyone else survive? I mean, did they all…die?

I looked at him. "All…except one."

"Who?"

"Enjolras," I said, as Marius closed his eyes and swallowed, "He was in jail with me, but…they took him down. He will be publicly executed on the 28th, in twelve days. And he kept rebelling…defying them. So they knocked him out, and took him down to…break him, without any food. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound very nice." My voice broke at the last word.

Marius looked even worse. He was pale, and looked how I would describe broken, if the word could be used.

"Enjolras…he was always so strong. He always believed so much in his Patria. Publicly executed…If there was anything I could do…"

I thought. If there was anything…it would take a revolution to stop them…a revolution! But no. The people would not come. No one. Not one. I said, "fight for him. When he is about to die, fight! That, if anything, would make him happy."

I didn't think Marius would go for the idea, but his face grew defiant and his eyes stormy. I liked it when that happened. He looked amazing.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, "Éponine, you're a genius. I will go and start an uprising! It's just…"

He trailed off, looking at Cosette, who was almost in tears. "Don't go, Marius," she whispered, "I almost lost you once, and I couldn't bear losing you again."

Marius looked torn. He looked at Cosette. "Well, I will be careful. This is important to me. The 28th is only twelve days away! And Enjolras…he was such a great leader…"

I could tell that Marius really wanted to do something, anything, to help Enjolras, but Cosette meant so much to him. It broke my heart, and I realized then, more than ever before, that Marius would never belong to me. He never had, and never would. I was always just a friend, there to send messages or find things out.

He would never be mine.

I looked despairingly at Marius, and, feeling like I was about to wrench my heart in two, forced myself to forget him.

I looked at Marius. He looked strange. Suddenly, tears started pouring down his face. He looked at us.

"You don't understand! You'll never understand. All my friends are dead!" He looked at Cosette and smiled. "If it wasn't for you… I don't know where I would be."

Marius gazed at me, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I'm sorry, Éponine. I don't think I can do anything. I will come…watch." He frowned, as if the lawyer side of him didn't like his choice of words.

I nodded, turning away so he wouldn't see me cry.

* * *

Hello Readers! It is Me! I am different from last time (obviously). Here are some clues to figure out who i am.

The first 100+ pages of the Brick are dedicated to me.

I die during the course of the book (though it is not mentioned that i die in the musical).

I have an extremely important role, if not a big one.

There you are! I hope someone guesses Me! Happy Valentine's Day!


	17. In Which Enjolras Is Called A Statue

Hey Readers! If you haven't had a chance to respond to my other Me, too bad. I already have two winners. Congratulations to WanderingChild500, who correctly guessed who Me was (the Bishop of Digne)! Also, congrats to maddieisafansie, who correctly guessed it but said she didn't know...? Anyway...

Still Éponine's pov-I decided that Enjolras was having a very boring time…and did not want to go on about his misery in the darkness alone…

Marius would not do anything. I could not do anything. Would all I ever do in life be watching, useless? The only time I did something, it was throwing myself in front of a gun for Marius. Even now, he didn't notice me. I looked at Cosette, who was kissing Marius very sweetly. She was the love of his life. I never would be. I thought of the few men in my life. Aside from Papa and the rest of the Patron-Minette gang, Les Amis de l'ABC had been the only ones. _And the only remotely good ones_, I thought. Enjolras I had always admired for his bravery and passion, but had never really thought about him. I looked back at Marius and Cosette, still lost in their own little world, and quietly left the room.

I hurried down the stairs and out the door. Marius was in my life once. Now he was gone.

XXX

As I sat in the corner of the Café du Sel et Poivre, or Salt and Pepper Café, I realized that I didn't really care what happened now. I might as well try to save Enjolras, but did it really matter? There was no way to accomplish this. My thoughts strayed to the angelic-looking former leader. He was brave enough to die for his cause, but I had done nothing in my attempt to die for Marius. Except save his life. Not that he cared.

Suddenly I was mad at him. For breaking my heart, for making me live with the shame of seeing Cosette beside him. I was tough- I had grown up on the streets for the most part of the last ten years- but I wasn't invincible. I barely knew Enjolras, but I envied him. Was that possible? To envy someone who was as good as dead? Yes, I decided. I am pretty sure the person I envied felt that way too, after all. All your friends and fellow students, led by you in a moment of glory, all to die while you were taken.

I smiled in a bittersweet way as I realized how much we had in common. He was just like the perfect Marius, no Cosette. Almost. Enjolras didn't _love_ people, not in the way Marius loved Cosette. I had heard Les Amis call him the "marble statue," because he didn't have any feelings. But he was still there, still stuck in a prison cell somewhere in La Force, waiting for the day he would die, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it, I imagined. No one could help him now.

I thought of the waste, of how all of the people at the barricade died to save people like me. Enjolras. Joly. And others whose names I didn't know. Dead, or soon to be. I cried for them, for me.

The next Me:

I am _definitely_ NOT a revolutionist, rather, I hold stock in the king.

This has nothing to do with my idiot grandson. I am a _royalist_, for goodness' sake!

I am very wealthy. Sadly, not even wealth could grant me a place in the musical. Stupid fools, always siding for the losing side anyway. Pah!


	18. In Which Startling Announcements R Made

Bonjour Readers! Bon samedi! Congrats to those of you who got Me correct- t. and preciousat! It was, in fact, M. Gillenormand, Marius' grandpa. Also, t. , you got the other one correct too, and were the only one to actually give Monsigneiur Myriel's name! (the Bishop, a previous Me) SOOO, there will be another Me, and i will not be cruel and call off the contest an hour after it began. I will give all you lovely Readers at least a day. Probably. Anyway, I have another idea. Who is the best character in Les mis? I will have a poll based off of my favorites. Do not feel compelled to vote. I will probably get, like, two votes. Whatever!

Éponine's pov

It was the twenty-third of June. I sat in the Café du Sel et Poivre. It reminded me of the Café Musain. Too much. I got up and walked. I walked to here, to there, to the Seine, to the house where I had lived as Éponine Jondrette, to the place I knew they held executions. I stopped there. It seemed very menacing, a lone guillotine at the top of a large scaffold. It remained from the Reign of Terror, and the National Guard had chopped off the heads of revolutionists with it ever since. I felt slightly nauseated as I looked at it, as evil as the king of France himself.

Looking at it sent a new flood of tears down my cheeks. I couldn't stop thinking of Enjolras. I didn't know how I would be able to watch him, tall and proud, being forced to…no. I couldn't even think about it.

I loved him. Very sudden, I know, but true. I did.

Me:

I like alcohol! XP

Poll options:

Enjolras, Éponine, Any Other Ami Because I Did Not Want To List Them All, Gavroche, M. Gillenormand (marius' grandpa), Marius, Cosette, Valjean, Thenardier (if he is ur favorite character then we are having a chat...), Javert, Fantine, That Weird Bloke That Valjean Saves Named Fauchelevent, or Other, Please Specify!

Thanks...Au revoir.

Actually. "a (with accent grave, im too lazy to insert it) teut a l'heure" is my favorite...means See You In A Little While (basically).

A (with accent grave) teut a l'heure!


	19. Light And Noise

Well, bonjour, Readers! HEre is the next part. THe poll from the previous chapter is still going. The answer to Me was Grantraire, though as one lovely Reader pointed out, it could be anyone. Thank you for that. (sarcasticcally, i hope ur reading this, fayefoxe, i know who u are...) Just fyi im not stalking fayefoxe or anything shes my friend and thinks its super funny...anyway:

Enjolras' pov

…

The young officer came in. He grabbed the ropes binding me to the table and cut them, rebinding my arms together behind me. I was shoved off the table and onto the cold floor. I did not move. Limply, I lay there as if dead. The officer shouted, breaking the silence I had endured for…a long time. To me, it felt as if needles were piercing my head. I shut my eyes as light streamed in, the first light in a long time, too.

"Get him up!" The officer barked to the guards who had followed him in the room.

Two of them walked over and each grabbed my upper arm, hauling me into a standing position. I gave no response, just hung limply, my head down and my feet dragging.

Slowly, I lifted my head. My mouth was dry and cracked, and dried blood was caked to my hair from when they had beaten me.

"So," I said in a flat, monotonous voice, "are you going to kill me now?" I tried to support my own weight and failed, though my arms and shoulders hurt from where they were pulling me up.

The young officer walked up to where I was, forcing me to look up in order to see him.

"Yes," he said, with a smile, "that is exactly what we are going to do with you." He said no more, simply motioned for the guards to follow him.

I had no strength. The guards effortlessly dragged me up, up, up to the top. Every time we went up a stair, a shooting pain went through my head.

They brought me to the top of the stairs at last. I silently collapsed in a heap as soon as they let go of me, falling face first on the ground. The officer looked at me with extreme distaste and said, "can you walk or are you so weak that we need to carry you?"

I moaned. The officer wrinkled his face and said, "drag him behind me."

Why do people like to put authors' notes at the bottom, too? Anyone know? I don't. i just post the Me.

The Me is someone who is the...main character. Sorry, im **bored! Jk. The Me is...um...Euphrasie. If u know Euphrasie's mum's name, that's the Me.**


	20. Éponine Doesn't Like Salt And Pepper

The Me is still Euphrasie's mum. THe author is still me. Éponine is prejudiced against the salt and pepper cafe. read on, Readers! Also, i have 22 reviews! And i didn't even ask for them! Peeple like my writing! Yay! Smiley! Cookie! Mangoes! Barricades! And OTher Awesome Things!

Éponine's pov

Four more days passed and I still had no idea how to free Enjolras. The hours crept by faster and faster as the day progressed. Six… Seven… Eight…

I wondered if Enjolras could hear the bells. The last bells he would ever hear. I wanted them to stop. Wanted everything to stop. Why did they have to kill him? As if there wasn't enough killing that happened without them doing more of it.

I cried. I couldn't stop. I was on the sidewalk under the eaves by the guillotine on the scaffold where the man I…loved…would die.

I sobbed myself to sleep.

June Twenty-eighth.

I woke when the sun rose, harsh light streaming into my eyes. On other days, the cool breeze and warm sunny weather might have put me in good spirits, but nothing could today. I looked at the scaffold, towering over everything else in the square. It's shadow hung over me, both in my mind and in reality. Seeing it made it that much worse.

I listened as Notre Dame's bells tolled for six o'clock. The last six o'clock that Enjolras would ever hear. I hoped he could hear it. Anything that tied me to him, now, was precious, even the bells that menacingly rung up to the hour of his death. I knew exactly when that would be, thanks to all the announcements. The revolutionist was going to be executed at ten o'clock sharp. Enjolras was the revolutionist. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out.

As I sat by the scaffold, I reminisced. I didn't even know what Enjolras' first name was. It could be anything. I wasn't going to make a silly guess, like Marius had when first seeing Cosette, but still, I wish I knew it.

I sat until the bells tolled seven, still sobbing quietly. I decided to go over to Marius' house. I don't know why, I just did. My feet dragged, and nothing could make me happy. At about halfway there, I stopped. I couldn't go on, couldn't bear to see Marius and Cosette. I looked up to the building to my left. Café du Sel et Poivre. Again. Why did I always seem to come across it? I didn't know, but I didn't really care, either. I didn't think that anything mattered. I just wanted the past to have changed.

If I had met him first, before Marius, if things at the barricade had been different, if he had escaped like I had…

It was my fault. I realized it then. My fault, all of it. If I had found my stupid sou earlier, and had helped Enjolras to escape, then things would be different. He would be free, and we would live together, and maybe get married, I don't know. All I knew was that, without a doubt, it was my fault. Everything.

Angrily, I kicked the Café. My foot hurt, but that was my intention. I leaned against the wall, sliding down the rough bricks. I buried my head in my arms and cried. Why? Why did I have to fall in love with another stupid revolutionary? Of all the people I could, the only ones who were interesting seemed to be the ones I couldn't have. Cosette had Marius, and Patria had Enjolras, though it didn't really matter in his case as he had less than three hours to live.

Suddenly, I was so angry with everything that I stopped crying. I ran back to the scaffold, back to that dreaded place. I would be strong. Of that I was sure. I had to be strong. For everyone. For Enjolras, for the people. For me.


	21. VIVE LA FRANCE! LONG LIVE THE FUTURE!

I am really sorry, Readers. Flames are welcome. Me is Euphrasies's mum. For those of you who stuck with Michel to the end, I salute you. VIVE LA FRANCE! LONG LIVE THE FUTURE!

Enjolras' pov

I was dragged down the walk. I thought I felt strength returning, but when I tried to stand up, nothing happened. One thing did change. I felt stronger, mentally. They had broken me, I was sure. But now I was being put back together.

Looking at the guard holding my left arm, I saw that he couldn't have been any older than myself. I felt an intense hatred, mixed with a curious pity. If only he had been on our side, he might be dead now, but have died for the freedom of his country. The national Guard might fight for the king of France. But I had fought for the true France, not the king.

I looked solidly at the guillotine atop the scaffold. Even from a distance, it was very visible. A crowd of people was gathered. To watch me be killed. As I was dragged through, they made way. Most of the crowd refused to meet my eyes, but a few of them did. One person, a young kid Gavroche's age, saluted. That made me smile. I quickly sobered, though, as the scaffold's shadow loomed over me.

It was probably ten feet high, but seemed like ten hundred. Fifty feet away.

Twenty.

Ten.

Five.

I was stepping onto the scaffold.

The noise of the crowd was muted. I did not hear anything except my heart. It was pounding. My guards threw me down on the top of it. I lay there as the young officer made a speech.

"People of France! Subjects of His Majesty! Do you see this man? He was a fool and a traitor! Led and fooled by him, over thirty of your young men perished, perished to overthrow the government! Do you remember what became of France the last time this happened? The Reign of Terror! This man, a revolutionist and a coward, is here before you to serve as an example of what happens to fools and rebels. Let this be a lesson to you! Here, the last surviving member of the revolution, Michel Enjolras."

I heard my name, and then there was a scream. Not from me. From the crowd. A girl's slightly husky voice, screaming, "NO!" I recognized it. Éponine.

I summoned all my will. The guards were pulling me up. I had no strength to stop them, but, as loud as I could, I yelled, "VIVE LA FRANCE! LONG LIVE THE FUTURE!"

And then…someone darted past them, ran onto the scaffold and into me, embracing me tightly. She was sobbing into my shirt, even though it was dirty.

I looked down. It was Eponine. She looked up at me, crying. Suddenly, she leaned up and kissed me. Hard. She kept at it, holding me and kissing me. I didn't know what was happening. It was…nice. I had minutes if not seconds to live. I kissed her back. And it was like nothing else mattered. Me, Eponine, and the revolution. That's all that mattered.

Then it was over. A guard yanked Eponine back, and she said, still crying, "Je t'aime! Je t'aime, Michel Enjolras!"

I was forced into the guillotine.

The bells began to toll ten. Then it all ceased.


	22. After

This is the aftermath. I am sorry. I salute you. If you liked my fanfic, review. It would make me feel happy. Im sorry it had to turn out this way. I really am. Think on the bright side-i will have a new one next! Je regrette.

Éponine's pov

At about eight o'clock, the crowds began to gather. They were here for many reasons, from what I could assume. Some were there because they honored Enjolras, but had been too cowardly to fight. Some wanted to see the death of a revolutionist. Some were just there to pick pockets. I was there for Enjolras.

Marius and Cosette came at about eight thirty. They were wearing black, but nothing noticeable. Marius was, after all, a wanted man. I saw them, but made no attempt to reveal myself.

I was in the middle of the crowd, towards the front. I waited as the bells tolled for nine, then nine thirty.

A little while after, the crowd gave a roar, as if it were alive, a vicious beast. I craned my neck, but saw nothing for about twenty seconds. Suddenly, I saw him. He was bruised, beaten, and his face was hollow looking. He was being dragged between two National Guards, but there was a fire in his eyes. Dimmed, but still the same one from the Musain. He was looking at the guillotine. I could only imagine what he must be feeling. My mind reeled. They were taking him up the steps.

His eyes were glazed over, and I thought all hope must have been lost. The guards threw him to the ground, where he crumpled, unmoving. The officer made a speech, and I realized with a nauseated feeling it was the same one who had killed Joly and tortured Enjolras.

"People of France! Subjects of His Majesty! Do you see this man? He was a fool and a traitor! Led and fooled by him, over thirty of your young men perished, perished to overthrow the government! Do you remember what became of France the last time this happened? The Reign of Terror! This man, a revolutionist and a coward, is here before you to serve as an example of what happens to fools and rebels. Let this be a lesson to you! Here, the last surviving member of the revolution, Michel Enjolras."

Michel. They were going to kill Michel Enjolras. "NO!" I screamed, as loud as I could, as they dragged him towards the guillotine.

He looked as if he was jerked back into reality. "Vive la France!" he yelled in a hoarse but still strong voice, "Long live the future!"

But I didn't care. I was running, up the scaffold. I slipped past the guards and into Enjolras-Michel- holding him tightly. I sobbed into him, I couldn't stop. I looked up at him, at the brave man who was to be killed in seconds, the man I loved, and kissed him. I was crying, happy and sad at the same time.

The guard roughly pulled me away and off the scaffold. As he did so, I burst through my tears,  
"Je t'aime! Je t'aime, Michel Enjolras!" _I love you! I love you, Michel Enjolras!"_

Then, I closed my eyes so I couldn't see anything. The bells at Notre Dame began to chime ten. At the third chime, the crowd gave a shout. I looked dully up. And down. There. It. Was. I sobbed, overcome with emotion. Running up, I did what I thought I could never do. But I was a Thenardier. I was strong.

I shuddered and awkwardly picked up the head. His eyes, once blue and piercing, were dead, staring at something that didn't exist. I carried it to a corner of the graveyard behind a church. There, I dug a hole. I placed it in the hole and covered it up. Over it, I put a light stone. My father had taught us to write, sort of. I wrote,

« Michel. Le Leader de la révolution. Tué le 28 juin 1832.» ("Michel. The Leader of the Revolution. Killed June 28th, 1832.")

-Finis-


End file.
